


The Salamander

by Delphi



Series: Fantastic Beasts [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which our heroes reunite and Severus receives a lesson in biology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Salamander

The four letters came back to Hogwarts with Severus, tucked into his trunk. If the investigations and trials of his friends had taught him anything, it was that all personal correspondence ought to be destroyed upon reading. Accordingly, he had intended to deal with them. More than once, he had sat down in front of the fire in his rented room at the Leaky Cauldron, convinced that he would only read them one more time before throwing them into the flames.

Then, of course, he would become distracted by the way that Kettleburn drew the _S_ in _Severus_. Not the loose and lazy way the same hand started off _Silvanus_ , but something carefully drawn and almost serpentine. He would peer at the bit about long-necked suitors, dissecting the paragraph layer by layer. He would follow the rises and falls of the word _meandering_ , and his own thoughts would tentatively wander. 

It bothered him, now and again, that he still indulged in masturbation. In the weeks and months after everything had gone wrong, it had seemed sacrilegious to take pleasure in anything. If he had been less dulled and exhausted, he might have thought to mortify his flesh. If he had been stronger, he might have abstained, but he had quickly learned that his wet dreams were no less gruesome than every other nightmare that kept him company in those scant hours of sleep. 

This was different. Where before he had briskly, almost brutally dealt with himself in the bath with as little mind as he paid to washing behind his ears, now he could not keep himself from seeing―feeling―again and again the strange, sudden kiss in the stables. A phantom of the hot, urgent twist he had felt in his stomach echoed through him as he touched himself. The memory of robes bunched up in his hands and a hard chest pressed against his own lingered. It was a selfish, greedy, guilty hunger, and locked away in a private room five hundred miles away from Hogwarts, with no one to expect better from him, Severus gave in to it fully.

He returned to the school the week before the start-of-term feast. The extent to which a summer in seclusion had uncoiled him did not become apparent until he set foot in the castle again and his shoulders grew tense and his stomach turned sourly. He had an appointment looming with Professor Dumbledore, but to his relief, the headmaster was not expected back for a few more days. He unpacked, and he reviewed his materials for the year ahead, and he had a surprisingly productive conversation with Argus Filch that resulted in a better desk and two bookshelves being moved into his office.

Severus was chatting with Professor McGonagall outside the library on the late afternoon when Kettleburn arrived back in residence. Professor McGonagall had either let her hair down on her holiday or had rather more patience for long-term staff, because she seemed to have thawed to him somewhat. They were almost painlessly negotiating the schedule of their major assignments for the year when the door some ways behind him opened and Professor McGonagall looked past him with an expression of mild surprise.

"Silvanus," she called out with a small wave.

Severus turned around stiffly. His chest tightened when he saw Kettleburn in the doorway looking once again intrepid and rather attractively unkempt. 

Kettleburn smiled brilliantly at him, his hair a riot and his beard overgrown. A large bag was slung over his shoulder, and his little crup was industriously sniffing the ground. Severus's gaze dropped, and when he raised it again, Kettleburn was still looking at him warmly. He tried to remember the last time anyone had looked genuinely happy to see him.

"Back to civilization, I see," Professor McGonagall remarked.

"Unfortunately," Kettleburn said drily. 

Severus snorted an awkward laugh―too loudly, making Professor McGonagall cast him an odd look. Kettleburn's smile only widened, and Severus felt the heat flood his cheeks.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, Minerva," Kettleburn said, "but if you're done with Professor Snape, do you think I might borrow him?" He set his bag down on the floor with a heavy thump. "I've been carrying that since Nairobi, and I'm afraid my arm is giving out."

"By all means," Professor McGonagall said. "As long as Professor Snape doesn't mind being borrowed."

"It's fine," Severus muttered, picking up the bag and finding it heavier than Kettleburn had made it look.

"Thank you," Kettleburn said. "Minerva, a pleasure as always. Mouse, come along!"

The crup trotting along beside him, Severus followed Kettleburn down the corridor, aware by way of the occasional glance over-shoulder that Professor McGonagall was watching them with interest.

"I trust your trip was successful?" Severus asked as they traversed the corridors of the east wing. 

"That remains to be seen," Kettleburn replied, but he looked pleased with himself. "I've left some samples with one of my colleagues at the University of Nairobi. She has these wonderful creatures called research assistants."

The crup darted ahead of them and scratched impatiently at a door. 

"I can't imagine it's safe to study a Nundu up close." 

They halted in front of the door, and Kettleburn stepped very near to him, opening the travelling bag that Severus was toting and fishing out a key ring. "It isn't. Summer is the optimum time for studying them in Masai Mara, as the leopards are engaged in following the wildebeest herd. When you know where they are, it's easier to be where they're not."

Severus found himself looking at Kettleburn's mouth as it curved in a rueful smile. Then Kettleburn turned and unlocked the door, leaving him to follow into a large set of apartments. 

"Do the Nundu live among normal leopards, then?" Severus asked, his tone affectedly casual. 

"Ah, now that's where things get interesting," Kettleburn said. 

"How so?" He looked around the sitting room. It was a warm, comfortable space, overflowing with books and other paper clutter. 

"What do you know about the Nundu?"

Severus shrugged. "Not much, I suppose. They're mammals that resemble large leopards. Native to East Africa. Extremely deadly, partly due to their size and strength, and partly because their breath spreads some sort of communicable disease."

"That is the commonly held belief. Scotch or brandy?"

Severus hesitated. "Brandy, please."

"Sit down, sit down. My colleagues and I have an alternative hypothesis."

"And that is?" He hesitated before sinking down in an armchair.

"A parasitoidal virus."

Severus frowned, tension ebbing into interest as Kettleburn handed him a glass. He took a sip of the brandy; it was the good stuff, and it warmed him when he swallowed it down. 

"Consider the gypsy moth caterpillar, which is susceptible to a baculovirus that acts very much like a transmissible Imperius Curse. Once infected with the virus, the caterpillar is driven against its will and nature to climb a tree to the very top, where it will stay until it starves to death or succumbs to the elements. There, it is optimally placed for rainfall to better disperse the virus."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You mean to say..."

"...that there is mounting evidence that the Nundu is not a mammal that carries a disease." Kettleburn smiled brilliantly. "The Nundu is the disease. It infects perfectly ordinary leopards and then takes control of the creature's brain, stimulating its pituitary glands to prompt growth and removing the leopard's natural skittishness of human settlements."

Severus suspected he couldn't keep the hopeless admiration from his expression as Kettleburn paced the room, glass in hand, describing in great detail the case of the zombie ants of Palau and his own dearest wish to obtain and examine the liver of a recently deceased Nundu leopard. 

Severus would have liked to have said that the kiss came out of nowhere. It would have absolved him of culpability had Kettleburn swooped down upon him again, pushed him up against a wall and had his wicked way with him. There was no force, however. No stealth, save in a very subtle and disarming fashion as Kettleburn paused in his speech, tilted his head to one side, and said abruptly:

"Oh, dash it all. May I kiss you?"

The question sat on his chest, heavy and suffocating. The lack of a _no_ did not prove to sufficiently communicate _yes_. The silence and Kettleburn's patient, curious stare held until, slowly, Severus nodded. "If you'd like."

Severus closed his eyes as Kettleburn stepped towards him. A lump was forming in his throat, and he could feel his heartbeat quicken as he tilted his head up. The light from the window was blotted out as Kettleburn leaned down over him. Their mouths met, warm and almost hesitant at first. Then he swore he could feel Kettleburn's lips curl into a smile against his own, and a firm hand cupped his jaw.

He might have been a virgin, but he was not entirely a stranger to kissing. For once, however, the pleasure overwhelmed the strangeness of it. An instant: frozen, awkward, wondering where his hands and tongue were supposed to be. Then the kiss changed from a soft, common-room-game affair to something harder, something that toppled past intermediary into advanced, and the worried whispers in Severus's brain fell silent. 

His head fell back against the plush upholstery of the armchair, and his hands blindly found Kettleburn's hips as his lower lip was bitten and sucked, as his mouth was urged open, as his tongue slid in a messy tangle that made whatever heat had not pooled deep in his stomach rush to his face. 

Kettleburn smelled pleasantly of the outdoors and tasted of brandy, and his breath was cool on Severus's wet, tingling lips when he drew back a scant inch and murmured, "Unfortunately, kneeling isn't in my current skill set. Shall we take this to the bed?"

It took a split-second for Severus to make the connection, but when he did, the image flashing through his mind and his hands clenching unconsciously, his "Yes" was swift and fervent.

The curtains had been left drawn in the bedroom, leaving the light in the room reassuringly muted. Bookshelves lined the walls, their contents lost in the shadows. The crup attempted to follow them in but was shooed off, the door shut firmly in her wake.

Severus sat down at the edge of the bed, nervously aroused. He felt tense, but not quite in the sick, floundering way he had at the Swan and Swain. His skin felt too tight, his body straining in anticipation as Kettleburn sat down beside him, wrapped a firm arm around him, and kissed him again.

In the quiet of the room, the mingled sound of their breathing and the press of their mouths seemed indiscreet and wicked. He swallowed hard as Kettleburn's fingertips brushed over the bare skin above his collar. Then Kettleburn's hand drifted down, caressing his chest, making him push forward hungrily. Lower, over his trembling stomach. Lower still, tracing the outline of his cock where it lay heavy and hardening against his thigh.

His breath caught in his throat, and he grew bolder. Kettleburn was warm and lean under his hands. Narrow hips and a trim waist. Arms surprisingly firm. The soft cotton of a vest when Severus's finger slipped between two shirt buttons.

He had thought, somehow, that it could possibly prove more difficult. That there might be a trick to it. Books had led him to believe that an overwhelming force of passion and gravity would be required at some point, along with declarations he was not prepared to make. Dormitory gossip had in turn convinced him that humiliations of every stripe inevitably awaited the novice. 

Kissing, however, segued rather smoothly into kissing and undressing. His robes were unbuttoned, and whatever shyness he might have felt at being bared was quickly quashed by the fact that this led to hands and lips on his naked skin. Getting out of his robes entirely involved a slightly awkward shuffle, and he pulled off his socks while he was at it. There he sat in nothing but a pair of pants that couldn't hide his arousal. He put aside the urge to cover himself and reached instead for Kettleburn's shirt.

His fingers were annoyingly clumsy on the buttons, distracted as he was by the gentle scrape of teeth on his neck and the slow back and forth of Kettleburn's palm over the tent in his pants. Gooseflesh sprang up along his arms, and he tilted his head back, baring his throat for more as he made short work of Kettleburn's shirt and vest. He licked his lips unconsciously, drinking in the sight of lightly freckled shoulders and well-formed arms.

The belt next, slithering smoothly out from between its loops. The rise in Kettleburn's trousers was utterly diverting, and a fluttering thrill flitted through Severus's stomach as he stroked what felt like a rather ample length. 

"Oh, lovely," Kettleburn murmured, his hand slipping down the back of Severus's pants and his lips nuzzling at Severus's ear.

He managed to fumble only a little with the buttons on Kettleburn's trousers before getting his hand inside. Objectively, he knew he was only touching someone else's pants―then, his fingers dipping under the waistband, someone else's skin―but the excitement of it was sudden and startling. His hand trembled for an instant before it curled around Kettleburn's cock. Hot. Smooth. Hard and growing harder under his touch. 

Despite nearly a decade of wanking and vague fantasising, Severus had never spared much thought to the giving of pleasure. He found now, however, that he rather liked the sudden heaviness of Kettleburn's breathing. An experiment: rubbing softly at first, then slowly more firmly until a soft, encouraging "yes" was breathed against his cheek. He tried to nudge down Kettleburn's pants, wanting a better view, wanting to have room to stroke him properly, to bring him off and listen to him and see him...

He made a sound of protest as his wrist was caught.

"Just a moment," Kettleburn said breathlessly, then swallowed hard. "If you please."

Severus tensed, pulling his hand back and watching warily. 

Kettleburn did not draw away, however. Instead, he swiftly rolled up his trouser legs and removed his prostheses. A neat manoeuvre saw his trousers and pants shucked off after them, leaving Severus caught between staring at the naked place where his legs ended and his flushed and rather nice-looking cock. The latter won out as Kettleburn unfastened the narrow straps that criss-crossed his right hand. Off came the brass fingers, and Kettleburn reached past him to set them on the bedside table. 

"Some find them cold," Kettleburn said before promptly pushing Severus down on the bed and kissing him soundly. 

Horizontality, it turned out, was rather ingenious. The counterpane was cool and soft against his back, and Kettleburn's skin burned against his own all along his front. Their mouths pushed harder against each other, graceless and hungry, and Severus's cock, rubbing against the inside of his pants, slotted deliciously into the hollow of Kettleburn's hip. 

"If you don't mind," Kettleburn said, a moment after a broken kiss, "I'd quite like to suck you off."

Severus paused. Blinked. Licked his lips. "I have absolutely no objections."

Kettleburn chuckled and then kissed him with a resounding, wet smack before shuffling down the bed. Severus's pants were carefully pulled down, baring his cock, which arched over his stomach, distractingly hard and leaking embarrassingly.

"Very nice," Kettleburn said.

Severus pushed himself up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes, inspecting the comment for ridicule.

"I mean it," Kettleburn insisted, running a fingertip along the underside of his cock and delicately breaking the strand of pre-ejaculate that had dripped from its head. "A remarkable specimen."

Any sharp rejoinder that Severus might have been tempted to make fizzled to nothing at the first hot touch of Kettleburn’s mouth on his cock. _Suck_ was not entirely accurate, he noted distantly, holding his breath and staring as Kettleburn mouthed along the length of him. His hands grasped futilely at the counterpane at a slow lick over his glans.

He soon had to close his eyes as his cock was enveloped firmly. Had to ease down flat on his back as Kettleburn’s lips slid down. Had to restlessly run a hand over his face, trying not to wiggle and push his hips up when he was firmly stroked. The sound of it was far lewder than their kisses had been. Wet. Lavish. Punctuated by his own ragged breathing and small, savouring hums from Kettleburn.

"I―" He tried to offer some warning, some protest as his control weakened and the heat and tension in his loins coiled up tight.

Kettleburn only hummed again, low and pleased, and within a handful of caresses, Severus was coming in his mouth. He could feel the slick slide of it between his cock and Kettleburn’s tongue, felt it shake him, making him tremble, making him clutch for Kettleburn’s shoulders and hold on tightly until the force of it ebbed.

“Oh,” he said stupidly as he stared up at the ceiling, still shivering. 

His softening cock was lazily licked, and then his thighs were fondly, laxly kissed.

“Acceptable?” Kettleburn inquired, looking up at him with rather swollen lips tilted to an unmistakable degree of smugness.

“I’m—“ His voice scratched slightly. “I’m not going to going to dignify that with an answer.”

Kettleburn chuckled and dragged himself up, kissing a path up Severus’s stomach and chest along the way before nuzzling at his throat.

Severus tilted his head and caught his lips. There was salt beneath the lingering taste of brandy, and the realisation made the warmth in his loins tarry. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Kettleburn’s cock. 

“Mm, a little harder…” Kettleburn said and sighed happily as Severus obliged.

He discovered the pleasure of flushed skin and the hard edge of bone beneath his lips. A collarbone, a freckled shoulder. He hesitated momentarily before running the tip of his tongue over a pale nipple. An encouraging hum and a hand in his hair spurred him to further attentions.

“Teeth wouldn’t go amiss,” Kettleburn said, his voice wavering slightly as his hips moved in counterpoint to Severus’s tight-gripped, quickening strokes.

There was something undeniably satisfying about biting down. The soft press of flesh between his teeth and the hot, low cry that Kettleburn uttered. The vivid red marks that his mouth left in its wake. The arm that clasped him. An air of urgency thickened, making Severus’s attentions rougher until Kettleburn arched against him and came in his hand with a long, satisfied moan. 

The kiss that followed allowed Severus to stealthily wipe his hand off on the counterpane, and then he rolled over onto his back, dizzy and trying to steady his breathing. 

“I’m tempted to go to dinner in the Great Hall,” Kettleburn said idly, “just to see everyone gaze upon the glow of the recently laid.”

Severus looked at him in suspicion and then glanced around in hopes of spotting a mirror. 

Kettleburn grinned. “Don’t worry, a good shower buries most indiscretions. I’m merely tweaking Albus Dumbledore’s impressive beard from afar.”

That did nothing to set Severus at ease. His eyes narrowed further. “Friends, are you?”

“Quite the opposite. I make him nervous, the repressed old so-and-so. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Even a mouse can make an elephant skittish. Colloquially speaking, at least. The zoological world is undecided.” 

Severus chewed his lip in consternation. “Was this ‘tweaking’, then?”

Kettleburn frowned and then yawned behind his hand. “Slytherins do come up with the oddest pillow talk. Of course not. This was pure opportunistic mammalian randiness. The hypothetical notion of annoying our mutual friend is only imaginative icing. Pull the quilt up, will you?”

He obeyed unthinkingly, unfolding the rather rumpled quilt from the end of the bed and drawing it over them. By the time he had mustered a reply, Kettleburn’s breathing had deepened to faint snoring.

Severus intended to get up in a moment. His eyelids were closing, however, and his pulse was thrumming pleasantly with the aftermath of his spending. His pulse felt slow and heavy, and the bed was plush and comfortable. For a moment, he worried at how quickly his body surrendered to the notion of sleeping in someone else's bed. But perhaps this too, he reassured himself as sank into the embrace of sleep…perhaps this too was only medicinal.


End file.
